


Get Under Your Skin

by artemis1186



Series: Kill of the Night [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, BAMF!Stiles, Canon and Non-canon character death, Dark!Derek, F/M, Lots of non-consensual, M/M, Mates, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Violence, Pack, Psychological Warfare, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, magic!Lydia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemis1186/pseuds/artemis1186
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Derek wanted him then Derek was going to get him. Stiles would make him rue the day that he ever went after his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Psychological warfare

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this took so long. It is going to be a multi-chapter fic though if people like it (which I will undoubtedly regret.) There is a lot of angst ahead though so prepare yourselves.

“You don’t have to do this Stiles.” Lydia’s grip on his arm tightened desperately. “We’ll think of some way to protect him, I promise.”

“He went after my Dad, Lydia. You of all people should understand why I have to go.” Lydia sighed before slowly releasing him and wrapping her arms around herself instead.

“Of course I understand. That doesn’t mean that I have to like it.” Stiles smiled at her sadly and pulled her in for a hug. She resisted for a moment, arching backwards away from him in an attempt to distance herself, before finally giving in and squeezing him so hard he thought she might have cracked his ribs.

Stiles buried his face into her hair for a moment and just breathed in. She smelled like the air before a summer storm. Warm, bright, sharp with the smell of ozone. He released her reluctantly and stepped back. Through the window to his right he could just make out the machine that was helping his Father to breathe. The sound was steady and reassuring but it still made his heart clench painfully.

“I’ll be careful. I’ll make him pay for everything that he’s done.” For a moment Stiles could see the doubt reflecting in her eyes but she masked it expertly after only a second. He could almost make himself believe that he had never seen it at all.

“Take Scott with you.” Stiles shook his head immediately but he stilled when he caught sight of the shine in Lydia’s eyes. “Please Stiles. I don’t know how much good he’ll do but you need back-up. I promised I would stay here which means that Scott’s the only one left that’s even remotely qualified to deal with this.” Stiles nodded before he was distracted by the rapid staccato of his Father’s heart. He shifted to go in but it had evened out again before he had taken a step. Stiles unclenched his hand slowly and when he turned to face Lydia his face had hardened.

“I have to go. Call me if anything changes, okay?” Lydia tore her own eyes away from the glass and caught Stiles with them.

“Call Scott.” Stiles nodded and headed toward the exit. “I mean it Stiles!” Lydia’s shout was muted as the door closed behind him.

Stiles had no intention of involving Scott in any of this. He refused to lose another person he cared about to the destructiveness of Derek Hale’s obsession.

He pulled the zipper of his hoodie up and headed west. There was no doubt in his mind that Derek’s pack was already tailing him but he had faith that they wouldn’t act without Derek’s express permission. He also knew that Derek wouldn’t give them that permission until he was sure that Stiles had finally hit rock bottom.

Well fuck that. Stiles was tired of waiting. He was tired of watching everyone he loved be destroyed. If Derek wanted him then Derek was going to get him. Stiles was going to make him rue the day that he ever went after his family.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

He made it to his house without interruption. He slipped inside soundlessly and immediately went to the trunk in his Father’s room. The shotgun felt light in his hand and Stiles smiled fondly as he remembered the first time that his Father had ever taught him how to shoot. It had been just after his Mother was killed and Stiles’ Father had insisted that he was only teaching him because he wanted him to feel safe again. Stiles knows now that his Father knew more than he let on about the Hales. Now Stiles knows that his Father was preparing him for war.

Well Stiles was ready (or as ready as he was ever going to be). He grabbed a backpack from the closet and started loading it with wolfsbane bullets, mountain ash and throwing knives. In anyone else’s hands the knives would have been pointless to bring along but Stiles had been practicing. He could blind a bird at twenty feet which meant that he could sure as Hell slow a werewolf down.

Fifteen minutes later found Stiles standing at the bottom of the staircase. He paused for a moment and his eyes caught the edge of one of the oldest photographs in the house. It was one of his Mother and Father at the beach when Stiles was three. Stiles Dad was smiling at the camera but Stiles’ Mother was caught in profile as she grabbed for Stiles’ little arm as he started taking off down the beach after a seagull. Stiles’ chest constricted as he looked at it and for a second he was almost overwhelmed with the feeling of loss. The moment passed though and Stiles glued himself back together again before he walked out and locked the door behind him.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

The streets were silent as Stiles headed through downtown. The hospital loomed ahead of him like a beacon in the night. To an outsider Stiles merely looked like a young kid heading to the hospital prepared for an overnight stay. Backpack slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning the street surreptitiously Stiles hoped that Derek’s pack fell for the guise as well.

Sure enough, two minutes away from the hospital entrance, Stiles heard a howl to his right that was quickly answered by a howl to his left. Stiles tensed instinctively before he bolted. He headed east but was quickly redirected south by the chorus of howls behind him. Stiles almost smiled. Everything was going to plan.

His cell phone vibrated tersely in his pocket and Stiles knew that Lydia had heard the howls as well. Stiles knew that if he lived through this Lydia would be waiting to punch him in the throat personally. Stiles wasn’t worried though because if he made it through this alive he would gladly punch himself in the throat.

He hung a left onto Sycamore and paused for just a second to rummage around in his backpack. Right about now Boyd, Erica and Isaac should be about ¼ mile behind him which meant that he had about a minute and a half to make it to the warehouse district to set up his final stand. Stiles turned right and started running again. The sound of his blood pumping was loud in his ears but the thrill of possible victory sang through his veins. If he could make it to the second floor he would be able to take out at least two of them before Derek even arrived.

That was when he heard it.

_AaWwwHoooo_.

Stiles heart almost stopped. The hair on the back of his neck startled into attention and Stiles foot slipped out from under him. He hit the pavement hard and skinned his hands but shoved himself to his feet almost immediately because there was no time to lose. The thrill of victory had vanished at the sound of Derek’s howl and Stiles felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water down his back. The top of the warehouse appeared through the maze of buildings and Stiles pushed himself harder. The sound of clawed feet on asphalt picked up behind him as Stiles cleared the first building. Two more howls sounded and Stiles tried to block it out. He could see the door. He could make it.

He cleared the door running and skidded to a stop as he threw the mountain ash behind him. It landed in a solid line across the door frame. Stiles’ lungs were heaving as he braced his hands against his knees. The mountain ash gave him a few minutes at best and Stiles straightened as he tried to locate the stairs. They were off to the left on the far side of the room. Stiles could still make this work.

He took a step. One step.

“You were so close Stiles.”

Everything went black.


	2. Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles may be captured but that doesn't mean he doesn't want answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't add this to major triggers but I will put it here just in case. Vomiting does take place in this chapter but only as a brief mention. I think that's all but if there are more I forgot please tell me and I will add them.

Stiles’ return to consciousness was not kind. His body jerked awkwardly and his neck snapped backwards so fast he thought he might have broken something. He groaned and opened his eyes.

The door to the warehouse was directly in front of him and he could just make out the sound of angry howls behind it. The line of mountain ash lay unbroken along the ground. Stiles tried to crane his neck around but the action caused an almost immediate need to vomit so he stopped.

“I’m disappointed in you Stiles.” Derek’s voice sounded from his left and Stiles tensed briefly before forcing himself to relax against his bindings. “I expected a much better chase.”

“Yeah, well I can’t be good at everything now can I?” Stiles glanced to his left and was greeted by Derek’s red gaze cutting easily through the gloom. Stiles swallowed convulsively against the memories that those eyes evoked.

“You always did have a mouth on you.” Derek stepped closer then and Stiles noticed that he had one of the blades from his backpack in his hand. His eyes trained in on the glint of silver like a moth to flame.

“Is this the part where you tell me that you could put it to much better use? Because I have to say man, that is so cliché. You should really work on your material.” Stiles flinched as Derek moved soundlessly and appeared in front of him. He grabbed Stiles chin roughly in his hand and wrenched his neck forward. Derek leaned in so close that Stiles could feel his breath against his lips.

“You should think before you speak. Next time I might have to take your tongue.” Derek slid the blade softly across his cheek in warning. Stiles closed his eyes for a minute to regain his composure.

“You’re the one who chased me. If you wanted some meek little cub to turn then you picked the wrong guy.” Derek chuckled darkly as he released his hold on Stiles’ chin and moved around behind him. He draped himself heavily over Stiles’ back.

“I don’t think anyone said anything about turning you.” Stiles tried to turn and meet his eyes but Derek stopped him easily with a hand on the back of his neck.

“Then why are you doing this? What’s the point? To kill me? Torture me? Why?” Stiles anger grew the longer Derek kept silent. He deserved to know why his entire life had been brought to ruin. All these years he thought that it was because Derek wanted to turn him so that he could add to his pack. Now Stiles didn’t know what to think.

In his rage Stiles had failed to notice that Derek had repositioned himself off to Stiles’ right. Derek regained his attention with a firm grip on his upper thigh. For a second Stiles forgot he was tied to the chair and he attempted to lunge at Derek. In reality, all he managed to do was force Derek’s hand higher up his thigh and cut off his own air briefly as the ropes constricted against his chest.

Derek pushed him back into the chair with his free hand. “Stiles. Stiles. Stiles. If I tell you where’s the fun in that?” Stiles scowled at him darkly in response. “And besides, why does it have to be just one of those things?” Derek’s fangs protruded as he smiled and Stiles had to work to stifle a shiver. “You know, it took a lot of planning to get you here. You should feel honored that I went through all the trouble.”

“Honored?” Stiles spit the word out as if it was poison on his tongue. “Honored that you decided to try and kill my whole family? Yeah, I feel really honored, you fucking asshole.” Derek’s claws ripped through the leg of Stiles’ jeans and he hissed sharply at the pain. The blood welled up quickly and spread across the denim like a pool overflowing.

“I’ve been very merciful so far. You should be thankful.” Derek sunk his claws a little deeper before finally releasing his leg and standing. Stiles gaped at him openly.

“You really are completely insane aren’t you? I mean, I was pretty sure, but this, this definitely confirms it.” Derek brought his hand up to his face slowly and began to lick the blood off. Stiles glanced off to the side and caught sight of his ruined thigh. He took a few heavy breaths in through his nose and fought down the bile rising in his throat.

“I’m not crazy Stiles. Not really. I’m just focused. And you just happen to have gained my attention.” Derek circled around towards the door and paused for a moment to listen to his pack whining outside. He stared, disgusted, at the mountain ash on the floor before he made his way back towards the chair. “Do you know what I want Stiles?”

Stiles laughter sounded sharp and incredulous. “If I knew what you wanted I’m pretty sure this conversation would have ended a while ago.”

Derek smiled at him and ran his fingers through his hair. It clumped together awkwardly as the blood that was left over spread sticky and thick. “What did I say about that mouth?” Stiles felt the blade swipe hazardously across his lips before it pushed insistently into his mouth. It tasted salty like sweat and tangy like copper. Stiles swallowed the bile down again and held very still. “Last warning.” He slid the blade out smoothly and for a second Stiles thought he was going to retreat again. Instead he felt a sharp tug as Derek grabbed the hair at the back of his head and pulled.

The legs of the chair lifted backward slightly as Derek used most of his strength to keep Stiles off balance. Half of his body strained forward to keep him from bashing his head on the floor while the other half strained backward to ease the pressure of Derek’s fist in his hair.

“God, you look good like this. All stretched out and struggling. I would fuck you right here if I thought you were ready.”

Stiles huffed slightly as the pressure increased. “Ready?”

Derek let go abruptly and kicked his chair hard to level him out. Stiles barely managed to catch his feet on the ground to prevent a forward fall. His thigh contracted with the strain and more blood gushed out. The entire top half of his jeans was now the color of dark coffee.

“Yes Stiles, ready. You’re not ready for me yet.” Stiles stared at him incredulously as he replaced the blade in Stiles’ bag. When he stood up again he was empty-handed. “I’m going to cut you free now. You are going to stand up and break your little mountain ash line and I am going to leave. You are not going to follow. Understood?”

Stiles mouth dropped open and for the first time in his entire life he couldn’t find anything to say. Derek approached and unsheathed his claws beside Stiles’ face. “I said. Is that understood?”

Stiles nodded wordlessly and sat still. Derek cut the ropes in the back with one smooth slice. Everything fell away at once. Derek waited patiently while Stiles regained the feeling in his hands. Once the pins and needles had stopped he stood up shakily. His thigh protested immediately but for the moment he just pushed it aside.

Derek gestured for Stiles to move ahead of him.

It took a full minute before he could reach the ash line because he had to drag his leg behind him. When he finally got to it the betas outside had gone silent. Stiles debated for a moment whether he was making the right decision. Ultimately he decided that if he had survived the Alpha he would probably survive his betas and he waved his hand swiftly across the line. It separated haphazardly and Derek stepped forward. He opened the door and took a step outside.

Stiles mouth opened before he could stop it. “That’s it.” Derek paused and turned. Against the dark of night he looked like something out of one of Stiles’ comic books. “You try and kill my Dad, you kidnap me and cut me up and then you leave.”

“Yes.” Derek smiled at him and in the light of the moon Stiles could see the blood stains on his once-again human teeth.

“Why? What was the point?” Stiles anger was flooding him again and for a second he entertained the idea of hobbling back and grabbing his guns. He knew realistically he would never make it but it made him feel better anyways.

“I told you Stiles. Try and keep up.” Derek rolled his eyes when Stiles stared back at him in confusion. “You’re not ready yet.”

“What does that even mean?!” Stiles hands were clenched in fists now. He was tired of talking in circles. He wanted answers Goddammit and he wanted them now.

“You’re not broken. Not yet.” Derek turned and started to transform. Stiles grabbed the side of the door to keep him upright.

“You’ll never break me.”

Derek’s chuckle, when it came, vibrated heavily in the air. “You’re already cracked Stiles. How much more do you think it will take?”

Derek finished transforming and loped off towards the outskirts of the warehouse district. The shadows of the betas followed soon after until Stiles was finally alone.

His brow furrowed in frustration and pain as he looked down at his damaged leg. He followed his own blood trail back towards his backpack and finally pulled his phone out of his hoodie pocket. Derek’s words circled like a swarm of flies inside his skull.

_“You’re already cracked Stiles.”_

Stiles pushed two on his speed dial and Lydia’s smiling face appeared in the corner.

_“How much more do you think it will take?”_

Lydia answered on the second ring and after he told her where he was she insisted that Scott would be there in less than five minutes to pick him up. He hung up and slumped into the chair. He felt like his strings had been cut.

_“You’re not ready yet.”_

Stiles heard the sound of squealing tires in the distance. It wasn’t until Scott’s worried face appeared through the doorway that it finally hit Stiles like a bowling ball to the chest.

He was going to kill them.

He was going to kill all of them.

Stiles threw up everywhere just as Scott reached for his arm.


	3. Is that blood on your hands?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good deed yields devastating results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst. Serious angst. This chapter was really hard for me. I went through several drafts with several different endings but this one just stuck with me. Stiles goes through a significant change in this chapter that will reverberate in the rest of this story. Hopefully, you will all stick with me through it.

**Two months later…**

_Stiles heart was racing. He could feel the woods closing in around him._

_Sounds. Sharp and echoing in the darkness of the forest. Stiles ran faster._

_Suddenly a light appears ahead. Stiles stumbles on a root but pushes through the pain of a twisted ankle._

_A howl, bloodthirsty and deep, is the only thing that catches on the edges of his mind. The only thing he feels is chest-crushing fear._

_The footsteps are louder now. The howls morph into laughter. It sends a wash of fear down his spine and makes him feel like unfortunate prey._

_The light ahead is brighter. It almost blinds him with its brilliance. Stiles feels the sweat pooling and cooling as it hits the night air. His feet hit asphalt and his pace picks up._

_A car horn sounds behind him and he swivels his body to avoid the hit. His feet stumble awkwardly but they begin to right themselves almost immediately._

_Then everything changes. The car ahead has not stopped to check on him. There is a flash of teeth on the edge of the woods that distracts him and he trips. He goes down hard. The skin of his hands rips and tears. Blood streaks the black and his heart drops. There is hot breath on the back of his neck. Teeth at his throat._

_Stiles closes his eyes against the inevitable. His mouth opens on a scream as he feels the teeth tearing into his throat…_

Stiles wakes up to the sound of his own choked off screams. The phantom pain of the bite lingers on his skin and Stiles pushes himself up and towards the bathroom to make sure that it was really just a dream.

The light clicks on loudly as Stiles checks his neck in the mirror. His face is pale and he can see the sweat marks along his back and neck spread out like rain puddles. He clicks the light back off.

His chest has finally stopped heaving by the time that he leaves the bathroom. His feet drag as he winds his way back to his room. Outside his door, Stiles’ Dad is leaning against the frame awkwardly. The cast on his arm shines out like a beacon in the dark.

“Everything alright?” His voice is sleep deep and Stiles feels guilty that he woke him up as well.

“Yeah. Fine. Just a nightmare.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” His Dad pushes himself forward and Stiles reaches out to steady him as he wobbles slightly.

“Maybe tomorrow. Still too real right now, you know?” Stiles’ Dad nods and pulls him into a quick hug.

“I’m here if you need me.”

“I know Dad. Get some sleep.” Stiles walks with him back to his room and makes sure that he takes some more pain pills before he settles back into bed. He closes the door on his way out and pauses as he eyes his door down the hallway. Suddenly he doesn’t feel much like sleeping.

He makes a u-turn and heads downstairs instead. The house is quiet and Stiles leaves all but the light in the kitchen off. He turns the television on just to have the background noise and turns his attention back to his nightmare.

It wasn’t the first time that he had experienced it. It wasn’t even the third time. At least this time his mind had offered him a reprieve from the sight of Jackson’s mangled body on the lacrosse field. The most disturbing part of the dream had been that shift from memory to dream.

Stiles had gotten lucky that night when that car had stopped to check on him. If it hadn’t then he probably would have ended up as he had in his dream. Dead.

However, maybe dead wouldn’t have been so bad. At least if Derek had killed him that night then he wouldn’t have endangered everyone that he loved. He wouldn’t have to worry about stepping out of his house. Life would be simpler if he had just let Derek kill him.

Stiles shook his head to clear it. This wasn’t helping. And besides, whose to say that Derek would have killed him that night. Stiles only thought he was going to kill him because he had killed Jackson in front of him. He thought that he had been running for his life that night and in a way, he had, just not the way that he thought.

Now he knew that Derek didn’t want to kill him. At least not before he got something else from him first.

Stiles shivered and grabbed his red hoodie off from the back of the couch. He slid it on and pulled his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around them in an attempt to comfort himself but it didn’t help.

A thump from outside causes him to jump about a foot off from the couch cushion. He recovers quickly though and rushes upstairs to grab his mountain ash bat and to wake up his Dad.

***********************

It takes approximately five minutes for Stiles and his Dad to suit up. His Dad is still groggy from the painkillers but Stiles is sure that the adrenaline is helping to push through the fog.

He has his bat in both hands and a pistol filled with wolfsbane bullets shoved into a thigh holster. He’s also got his trusty knife shoved into his boot. His Dad has a shotgun strapped to his back, a revolver in his shoulder holster and an Uzi resting lightly on his cast. Stiles gestures to him to check the back while he heads for the front door.

Stiles opens the door wearily and glances out. For a moment it looks clear. The street is quiet and the other houses on the block are all dark. That’s when he sees it. There is a shape curled into a ball at the edge of the driveway. Stiles breath catches in his chest and he inches his way out through the doorway.

All of his instincts are screaming at him to go back inside and shut the door. His heart is telling him that someone is in trouble. “Fuck” Stiles whispers. He lifts the bat higher and heads down the stairs. The figure at the edge of the driveway is groaning now.

As Stiles gets closer he notices that his Dad has comes around from the back and is gesturing at him to stay put. Stiles shakes his head and waves him back. He can hear his Dad telling him not to be a “Stupid Bastard” but Stiles just smiles and approaches cautiously.

By now Stiles has gotten close enough to see the long gashes that are littering the figure’s back. The fabric of his t-shirt is shredded and his skin looks raw. Stiles winces in sympathy and steps closer.

Luckily the figure had managed to make his way inside the wards or else Stiles would seriously be debating whether he would be helping him or not. Stiles wasn’t heartless but he also wasn’t stupid. He could recognize a trap when he saw one. This felt like a set-up but at least Stiles knew that the man before him was human or else he wouldn’t have been able to cross the wards. And if there was one thing that he could handle it was humans. Just to be safe though he set the mountain ash bat on the grass and pulled out his pistol. It may be filled with wolfsbane bullets but they killed humans just as easily. It also gave him the ability to keep the human at arms length.

Stiles closed the distance and reached a hand out. The guy groaned in pain as Stiles rolled him onto his back. For a moment Stiles froze in shock. Once that passed he knelt down and yelled for his Dad.

Danny’s face didn’t look much better than his back. It was bruised and bloody. There was a cut above his eye that was still bleeding sluggishly and the front of his chest had the same claw marks as his back. One of his eyes was swollen shut and his lip was split. Stiles could see the blood coating his teeth and his hand came away from his shoulder sticky with tears and blood.

Stiles Dad was crouching down on the other side of him and Stiles locked eyes with him worriedly. “Do you know this kid?”

“Yeah, it’s Danny. I go to school with him. We’re friends. Kind of. He helped me rig that camera on the end of the street." Stiles’ Dad nodded in acknowledgement and set his Uzi down on the grass beside him.

“Well, lets get him inside then.” Stiles nodded and went to leverage Danny up by his armpits.

Stiles almost dropped him when Danny’s good eye suddenly opened. “Danny? Can you hear me? Who did this to you?”

Danny was quiet for a moment while he seemed to gather his wits. “All I remember is coming home from school. I think someone must have knocked me out.” Danny clutched his side suddenly and moaned in pain. “Please help me.”

Stiles only thought about it for a second before he grabbed Danny under the arm again. “Alright Dad on three. One. Two. Three.” Stiles’ Dad used his good arm to leverage Danny up high enough for Stiles to throw Danny’s arm around his shoulders. Stiles hauled him into the house while his Dad picked the bat and Uzi up from the front lawn.

*********************************

“So you don’t remember anything?” Stiles had settled Danny down onto the couch and his Dad had gone upstairs to grab some of his pain pills.

“No. Like I said, I remember walking home from school and then nothing. It just went black.”

“Did you hear anything?” Stiles handed him a glass of water and grabbed the pills from his Dad from over his shoulder.

“Footsteps. That’s it. I didn’t really think anything of it.” Danny sat up a little and swallowed down the pills. He relaxed back into the cushions and closed his good eye.

“I’ll get you some ice for that eye. Stiles why don’t you come and heat up some soup for him.” Stiles nodded and patted Danny’s knee awkwardly before he headed into the kitchen. Almost as soon as he had cleared the doorway his Dad pulled him aside. “Something’s wrong here.”

“I know. Any ideas?” His Dad was silent as he ran through all the possible scenarios.

“It could be a trap. Or a distraction. Nothing’s adding up though. You said you were friends?”

Stiles nodded and bit at his lip. “Yeah, I guess. We don’t know each other that well but he’s a good guy. He’s helped me out a few times.”

“Does he know about your connection with Derek?” Stiles shook his head immediately but then paused. Did he?

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. When I asked him to help me with the camera I just told him it was for a social experiment. That I needed to measure the influx of people on my street and compare it with crime rates.” His Dad nodded thoughtfully beside him. After a minute he went to grab some ice from the freezer.

“Maybe we’re over thinking this. Maybe it wasn’t Derek. Or if it was then maybe he just wanted to show us that he can get to anyone.” Stiles nodded in agreement. It made sense. Derek was unhinged and his rationale was probably compromised. After all, it had been almost two months and Stiles had not seen hide nor hair of him.

The full moon was closing in but there had been no significant increase in Pack movement in the last few days. This attack was, quite simply, out of the blue. Nothing made sense.

“I don’t know why he did or if he did but I do know that Danny needs medical attention. Obviously we can’t do that until morning, but I’m pretty sure there is still a bunch of gauze and peroxide upstairs. I’ll fix the soup if you go grab that stuff.” The Sheriff nodded and headed out of the kitchen with the ice pack. Stiles heard the start of a muffled conversation and headed toward the pantry. He grabbed a can of chicken soup off from the shelf and grabbed some Tupperware from under the sink.

After he threw the soup in the microwave he headed back to check on Danny.

The couch was empty.

Stiles stomach twisted unevenly for a moment. “Danny?”

No response. His stomach twisted a little more violently. He headed for the stairs.

“Dad?” His voice got louder as he ascended.

“We’re up here Stiles.” Danny’s voice floated down the stairs from the bathroom. The fear that was caving Stiles chest in eased. He released his death grip on the railing and jogged the rest of the way. When he reached the landing he noticed the bathroom light illuminating the wall on the far side of the hallway.

As Stiles got closer his heart started beating a little louder. His throat was getting dry but his palms had started to sweat. “If I knew that you were going to have to drag him upstairs Dad I would have just gotten the stuff myself.” Stiles tried to make his laugh seem less forced but he’s pretty sure that he fails miserably.

It’s quiet for a moment before Stiles hears Danny’s reply. “Don’t worry your Dad did fine. But I think we might need your help to get the gauze on.”

Stiles was almost at the bathroom door now. “How did he get you upstairs anyway?” Stiles stepped into the light and froze.

Stiles could just make out his Dad’s legs hanging limply over the side of the bathtub. Danny was standing by the mirror examining his swollen eye. Stiles body coiled, ready to strike, when Danny turned.

He was holding a serrated blade in his right hand. Stiles eyes widened in shock and he stepped forward out of an immediate need to see if his Dad was alright.

The blade flashed in the pale bathroom light. “That’s far enough.” Stiles stutter stepped but pressed forward regardless. The knife moved whip fast and Stiles felt it slice awkwardly through the flesh on his stomach. He stopped his progress.

“Why?” Stiles’ voice sounded dry and rigid. He swallowed again to return the moisture. “Why are you doing this?”

“For Isaac.” Stiles shook his head in confusion and flattened his hand harder against his stomach to stem the blood flow.

“Isaac? What…” Stiles mind was running a mile a minute. None of this made sense. Danny hardly ever saw Isaac let alone spoke with him. What the hell would Isaac have to do with any of this? “I don’t understand.”

Danny shook his head. He looked disappointed. “And you’re supposed to be the smart one.” He switched the blade to his left hand and herded Stiles out of the bathroom and towards his bedroom. Stiles glanced nervously behind him to try and get a better view of his Dad. Danny rolled his eyes. “He’s not dead. Yet.”

Stiles gritted his teeth angrily. He knew his eyes probably looked positively murderous but that didn’t seem to faze Danny at all. “Why don’t you explain it to me then?”

“Isaac is my Mate. He said he needed help to make his Alpha happy so I offered my services. You know, I knew Lydia was clever but those wards, man those wards are genius.” Danny led Stiles toward the bed and made him sit. Meanwhile he took a seat in Stiles’ computer chair.

“Your Mate.” To say that Stiles was shocked would be an understatement. He had heard the term Mate bandied around wearily (usually by Allison when she was discussing tactical advantages) but he had never actually heard anyone confirm that they actually had one.

For the longest time Stiles had assumed that Scott and Allison were Mates but Scott had explained a little while back that Mates were something that were fated not something that you could decide for yourself. Not all werewolves had Mates either. It was supposed to be a supernatural bond that increased the strength of both parties and bonded them to each other for life. One could not survive without the other. That was why Allison saw them as tactical advantages.

Mates were a werewolf’s greatest weakness. But they were also their greatest strength. Stiles cursed himself for not doing more research on them. Maybe then he would have been able to tell if there were any outward signs. Maybe then he would have known that Danny was a traitor.

“Yes, my Mate. I would think that you would know all about them by now.” Stiles frowned at him in response and Danny started laughing. He laughed so hard that Stiles could see more blood starting to spread across Danny’s ruined shirt.

“Did he do that to you?” Stiles gestured at his wounds and Danny glanced at them passively.

“Don’t change the subject Stiles.”

“It seems like a pretty important subject Danny. Why would you want to stay bound to someone that does something like that to you?”

Danny snorted inelegantly. “You’re one to talk.”

“What the Hell is that supposed to mean?” Danny eyed him suspiciously for a moment before his eyes widened in surprise.

“You really have no idea do you?” Danny stood then and started closer. The blade was still out but he seemed to have forgotten about it. Stiles certainly hadn’t though and he watched it carefully out of the corner of his eye.

“No idea about what?”

“Why do you think Derek is doing all of this?” Stiles shrugged.

“I don’t particularly care why he’s doing it I just want him to stop.” Danny shook his head and paced agitatedly in front of him. He stopped suddenly and Stiles had to lean back in order to avoid the knife slicing his throat.

“You’re his Mate.”

Stiles brain stopped functioning. His mind powered down completely for a solid two minutes while he absorbed this new information. Suddenly every conversation that they had ever had, every meeting and pain filled second spent in his presence, made sense.

“You’re insane.” Danny snorted and looked ready to reply when Stiles held his hand up. “Not your theory. I definitely believe you about that. Makes total sense. I mean that you’re insane for ever agreeing to be Isaac’s Mate. I never took you for a masochist Danny.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed and his shoulders tensed. “I’m not crazy Stiles. I’ve simply accepted that Isaac is my perfect match. You don’t know him like I know him.”

It was Stiles’ turn to snort. “No kidding. Those Pack meetings must be a real blast.” Danny’s eyes slid away from his for a moment and Stiles cocked his head in question. That was when it hit him. “He doesn’t know about you does he. Derek. If he did you would either be dead or part of the Pack.” Danny’s jaw clenched in reply and Stiles saw his grip on the knife tighten. He wasn’t ready to let it go yet though. “How do you hide it from him? Does Isaac make excuses about you two being study buddies? Or do you just avoid touching each other all together? How can you devote yourself to someone when you’ve never even touched them?”

“Some things are deeper than the physical Stiles.” Danny’s voice was ice cold and Stiles had to work to suppress a shiver.

“You really are insane. Both of you are. He will find out. You have to know that. And when he does…” Stiles left it open-ended because he knew that Danny could fill in his own blanks.

For a second Danny looked afraid. Then he just looked determined. “Why do you think I’m here?” Stiles frowned. “Leverage Stiles. How thankful do you think Derek is going to be if Isaac and I deliver you to him? Gift-wrapped.” Danny took a step closer and Stiles tensed up.

“I don’t think Derek knows the meaning of the word thankful.” Stiles tone was whip sharp and Danny flinched unconsciously. “Besides even if you do deliver me what makes you think that Derek won’t kill you for getting your scent all over his _property._ ” Stiles spit the word out hatefully but his words delivered the desired effect.

Danny pulled back a little and the knife wavered. Stiles didn’t think before he acted.

He lunged for the knife and managed to catch Danny by surprise. The knife flew out of his hand and knocked noisily against the bedroom wall behind them.

They wrestled for a moment before Stiles got the upper hand. It wasn’t hard considering how badly injured Danny already was. Even if he might have been stronger with Isaac’s bond it wasn’t helping him since he was still human and the blood loss had kicked in. Also, Stiles might have kneed him in the groin. Purely by accident of course.

Stiles took one more swing and caught Danny directly under the chin. His head snapped up and it was over. Stiles slumped down beside him for a split second before he hauled himself to his feet and stumbled down the hall toward the bathroom.

He leaned against the doorway and felt his breath hitch painfully in his chest. Wearily he leveraged himself around the corner and stepped inside.

His Dad was lying, unmoving, in the bathtub.

Stiles could feel the sob building like a wave in his throat but he fought it down ruthlessly. He leaned over the tub’s edge and stretched his fingers out to check for a pulse.

Nothing.

He checked again. He switched sides and then he searched his wrist. He leaned over into the tub and tried to feel his Dad’s breath on his cheek. There was no movement. No breath.

Stiles leaned backwards, dizzy with grief and almost smacked his head on the toilet. He braced his hands on the floor behind him and stared silently at the bathtub.

His Dad was dead. After everything that they had been through, after everything that they had survived together. He was dead. Stiles was alone.

The sobs broke free like water from a dam. He cried harder then he had ever cried in his life.

His eyes reddened and stung and his throat was sore but the tears wouldn’t stop. Stiles curled his arms around himself and began rocking. He couldn’t stop. His body was shaking but his mind was shut down.

Then, from outside he heard a howl. One. Lone. Howl.

Stiles stopped shaking. His body straightened and he hauled himself up from the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the bathtub again so he closed the door behind him.

He headed downstairs, grabbed his pistol, and retrieved his knife from his boot. He might not have been able to reach it before but Stiles knew now that it was still going to serve its purpose tonight.

He headed back upstairs.

Danny was just beginning to regain consciousness. He groaned audibly and tried to push himself up from the floor. Stiles gave him a helping hand.

He hauled him up by his shirt and steered him down the stairs with a grip in his hair. He struggled half-heartedly until Stiles jammed the blade of his knife sharply into his side. He froze and then submitted wordlessly as Stiles threw open the door.

Isaac was standing just outside the ward line. He paced nervously until he saw Stiles’ grip on Danny and then he froze.

“Stiles.” Stiles led Danny down the stairs and paused out of reach. Isaac looked afraid. Stiles could only imagine what Danny looked like. Perhaps he shared the same look that his Dad had before he killed him.

Stiles grip tightened subconsciously as a new wave of vicious hate rolled through him.

“You killed him. He was everything to me and you killed him.” Danny tensed visibly in his grip and he tried to squirm around to catch Stiles’ eyes. Stiles wouldn’t let him.

“It was an accident Stiles. I never meant to actually kill him. What would that gain me? Please, it was an accident.” Danny had started to cry. Stiles could hear his breath hitching and his shoulders were shaking. Stiles didn’t care. The only thing that Stiles felt right now was a powerful need for vengeance.

No, not vengeance, justice.

His Father deserved justice. Stiles slid the blade a little harder into his side and Danny whimpered pitifully. Isaac was growling impotently on the other side of the ward line.

“What should we do now?” Stiles directed the question at Isaac because Danny was too consumed by his tears.

“Let him go. Please. You don’t have to kill him. We’ll leave. You won’t ever see us again. I promise.” Isaac was pleading now. He was pushing fruitlessly against the ward line and whimpering quietly.

Stiles looked at him through dead eyes. “If he dies, you die. Isn’t that what you said? Why shouldn’t I kill two birds with one stone?” He twisted the knife counterclockwise and felt it scrape against a rib. Danny was nearly incoherent in his pain now.

“Wait!” Isaac was throwing himself at the barrier now. Stiles laughed, hysterical. His own tears were building behind red eyes again. “You don’t want to do this.”

Stiles tightened his grip. “Don’t you dare tell me what I want to do.” His voice was not his own. It was venom rich and blade sharp. It was entirely alien to him and he wondered briefly if this was who he was now. Crazy in his grief.

“Think about it. If you do this you will be just like Derek. A murderer. Can you live with yourself? Knowing that you’re playing right into his hands? He’ll own you after this. He’ll be one step closer to breaking you.”

Stiles’ smile was positively chilling. Nothing but a bearing of teeth and malice.

“This whole town is full of murderers.” He glanced at Danny who was still crying (though silently now) and then across at Isaac. “What’s one more.”

The blade was suddenly slick in his grip. A river of red gushed over his hand and he heard something howling desperately in the distance. He looked dispassionately down at the red covering his hands.

The blade slipped out easily. It went in again from the front like a knife through butter. He pulled it out and released his grip on Danny’s hair. He fell forward lifelessly.

Isaac was on his knees on the other side of the barrier. He was deathly pale and clutching his sides. “What have you done.”

Stiles walked closer and studied him. “That was for my Dad.”

“You’re a murderer.” Isaac’s voice was getting quieter and his body was slumping forward helplessly.

“Yes.” Stiles was suddenly very tired. His bones felt like liquid and his neck was covered in sweat. His stomach felt like it was being tossed violently like a ship on the sea.

“You…” Isaac’s voice faltered and his head flopped uselessly forward. Stiles reached out and brushed the hair from his forehead. It smeared red. Stiles jerked his hand back.

“I’m sorry.” The words slipped free before he could think about them. He watched as Isaac’s eyes started to slip shut. His chest shuddered and then fell still. Stiles scrambled backwards and his hand slipped in the blood that had pooled on the grass beneath Danny’s body. He twisted sideways and heaved into the grass.

He went to wipe his face off with his hand and had to throw up again as the blood caught on his lip. They were dead. He had killed them.

His Father was dead. They had killed him. Stiles brain flickered like a bad bulb from one thought to the next. It didn’t settle on anything, just flashed past like a slide show.

_Derek would know. He was just like Derek now. He had killed him without a thought. He had killed him. There was so much red. How would he explain this to everyone. What was he going to do now?_

_Broken._

_He was broken._

Stiles mind stopped.

No. **NO**.

He wasn’t broken. He was his Father’s son. He was strong. He was resilient. He would make Derek pay for this. For everything. His Father wasn’t the only one that deserved justice in this town.

Stiles stopped shaking and straightened up. He picked himself up off from the ground and found his feet. The sound of sirens was getting closer and Stiles steeled himself for the inevitable firestorm of questions that he was going to get.

Eventually he would have to go back inside. He would have to explain what happened and he would have to have someone come inside and clean the house from top to bottom. He would need to bury his Dad.

Stiles heart seized again but he quickly threw that thought to the back of his mind as three squad cars pulled up, lights blazing, in front of his house.

Stiles started down the lawn with his hands up and waited patiently as they cuffed him and then sat him down on the steps by the house.

They went inside and when they came back out they uncuffed him silently and started asking him questions. He answered all the ones that he could before finally the fatigue caught up with him and his entire body started to shut down.

He was loaded into an ambulance and wrapped in a shock blanket. The EMT that was sitting across from him was asking if there was anyone that they could call for him.

Stiles stared at him silently for a moment before he recited Lydia and Scott’s phone number to him.

The siren’s blared noisily over his head but Stiles blocked it out. He lay down on the stretcher behind him and curled up on his side. The EMT sat silently behind him.

Stiles closed his eyes and let the blackness take him.

He dreamed of bloodshed and screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intentionally left the method with which the Sheriff was killed ambiguous because I wanted to leave a feeling of uncertainty and unresolved questions. I realize that Danny was weak and Stiles' Dad is the Sheriff and could take him especially if he was already suspicious. However, there are millions of ways to kill someone (accidental and otherwise) and I felt that the Sheriff's death needed a certain level of mystery.


	4. Close Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does anger get you? A cathartic release accompanied by a hell of a lot more unanswered questions apparently.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Scott’s muffled voice floated through the door of the hospital room as Stiles worked on pulling up his jeans.

“I don’t think now is the right time to talk about this.” Lydia’s voice was quieter but insistent. Stiles finished lacing up his sneakers and stood. When he opened the door Scott looked guilty while Lydia looked sad.

Stiles turned right and headed toward the elevators before either could say anything. He could vaguely hear the scuffle of shoes as Scott and Lydia both moved swiftly to catch up with him.

“Stiles…”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.” Scott sounded defensive and a little hurt.

“I don’t care. Nothing that you say could possibly make a damn bit of difference right now.” The elevator doors opened and Stiles stepped inside. Lydia grabbed his arm lightly but Stiles tore it out of her grip before he could really think about it. She just huffed quietly and crossed them over her chest instead.

“My car is outside. I’ll drive you home.” Her voice was calm and collected but Stiles had seen the tension in her shoulders when he had stepped out of that hospital room.

“I don’t have a home anymore.” Stiles swallowed against the wave of grief that threatened to consume him. Scott whined quietly beside him. His arm reached out awkwardly but he stopped as Stiles’ head swung sideways to glare at him. It dropped listlessly back to his side.

“Well then you can come back to my house. You shouldn’t be alone. It’s…” Lydia trailed off awkwardly. The ‘dangerous’ went unsaid but hung like a thick cloud of smoke threatening to choke them all.

“I’ll be fine.” The elevator doors opened onto the parking garage and Stiles stepped out into the night air. He started toward the sidewalk on the other side of the building.

“Stiles. Just wait!” Scott gripped his bicep forcefully and this time Stiles couldn’t pull away. “I’m sorry about your Dad. I should have been there.”

“We both should have.” Lydia sounded small and griefstricken.

“But it doesn’t change the fact that Derek is still out there. His Pack is still out there and you’re in danger. I couldn’t protect your Dad and I’ll regret that forever; but I’m damn sure going to do my best to protect you.” Scott’s grip tightened and Stiles could feel the muscle give into the pressure. The bruises tomorrow would be truly spectacular.

Stiles took a deep breath. “You can let go of me now.” Scott growled warningly and Stiles placed his hand on top of Scott’s own. “Scott, seriously man. Let go. It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.” Scott eyed him suspiciously for a minute before he slowly released his grip.

Stiles started walking toward the sidewalk again but this time he allowed Scott and Lydia to walk with him.

Once they reached the street Stiles’ eye caught on the silver of the full moon. It loomed above them menacingly and Stiles could feel a pulse of hatred that he’d never felt before course through his veins. He had to clench his fists to stop the shaking.

Lydia noticed but chose not to call him out on it. Stiles felt a rush of gratitude towards her that he didn’t know how to express right now.

He began walking north to put the moon behind him. Scott and Lydia fell silently into step beside him.

***************************

　

After a couple of miles Scott became agitated and broke the silence. “Stiles, where are we going?”

“I don’t know. I just needed some fresh air to clear my head.” The weight around Stiles heart felt like it was lifting with each step that he took so he hadn’t really been paying any attention to where they were.

“That’s cool, it’s just…”

“Just what?” Stiles eyed him curiously as Scott slowed down.

Lydia suddenly seemed to realize where they were as well and she reached out to pull Stiles to a stop.

“We’re headed toward the Preserve.”

Stiles felt like someone had just dumped an entire bucket of cold water over his head. His heart stuttered dangerously and he felt like there was a rubber band around his chest.

“What?”

“The Preserve. It’s only a couple of miles from here.” Lydia’s shoulders were tense with stress and Scott’s eyes were glowing like beacons in the dark.

“We need to leave. Now.” Scott’s voice came out as more of a growl and Stiles nodded frantically in agreement.

They had just turned back toward the hospital when they heard it.

A chorus of howls broke through the night. Stiles stopped breathing as his body went into ‘fight or flight’ mode. His muscles tensed like coils and his eyes locked onto Scott for guidance.

“Run. I’ll hold them off as long as I can.” Stiles stared at his back as Lydia pulled desperately on his arm.

“I won’t leave you here alone.”

“ ** _GO_**!” Scott turned and shoved him with one clawed hand. Stiles stumbled backward as he stared at Scott in his Alpha form. Scott turned around again and began growling. Stiles grabbed Lydia’s arm and started running with her up the sidewalk. The sound of howls was getting closer and Stiles had to fight to keep himself from turning around again when the sound of fighting started.

The only thing that stopped him was the look of pure fear on Lydia’s face. There were tear tracks on her cheeks and Stiles could feel her arm shaking under his palm.

Lydia looked into his eyes; she looked to him for answers. In that moment Stiles felt his resolve harden. Scott knew what he was getting into. Right now Lydia needed him more. Right now he needed to get them both out of here.

“This way.” Stiles released his grip on her arm and grabbed her hand. He pulled her sharply to the left and led her towards a bakery on the other side of the street. He skirted the building and led her down a dark alley between the bakery and a pet shop. He could hear the sound of barks as the dogs picked up on their panic and the presence of larger predators nearby. Stiles ran faster.

They had cleared another alley when Stiles stopped abruptly in the middle of the road. His whole body felt like it was being electrocuted by a car battery. His skin tingled with the feeling of being watched.

“Stiles?” Lydia’s voice was high and she sounded completely out of breath. Stiles turned away from the feeling of eyes on his back and ran east. “Where are we going?!”

Stiles pushed Lydia ahead of him down the next alley and answered cryptically, “Somewhere safe.”

They stuck to the shadows as they wove their way through the streets and back alleys of Beacon Hills. By the time Stiles had lost the feeling of being watched they had almost reached their destination. Stiles held Lydia back as a car passed in front of the Veterinarian’s office. Once the street was clear Stiles pulled Lydia out with him and carefully started across.

The feeling hit him before the sound of growls reached his ear. Lydia froze mid step and Stiles had to pull her arm to get her out of the street. He turned her around quickly and grabbed her shoulders. “Lydia, listen to me. I need you to run as fast as you can. The front door will be locked but the back door won’t be. Deaton should be in there but if he isn’t I need you to barricade yourself inside, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Lydia was shaking her head but Stiles just gripped her tighter as the feeling in his body grew stronger. “I can’t. Stiles come with me.”

“I can’t. This is something that I have to do.” When he met her eyes they were filled with desperation and mania. He smiled to try and comfort her. “I can’t lose anyone else Lydia. You have to go.” A growl sounded from directly behind them and Stiles watched as Lydia’s eyes grew wide with fear.

He pushed her so hard that she almost stumbled. “Run! Go!” She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something but instead she blinked away her tears and ran toward the back of the clinic.

As soon as she was out of sight Stiles took a deep breath and turned. His heart raced faster as he took in the feral look in Derek’s eyes. His eyes practically bled red and his teeth were bared in anger. The sheer size of his Alpha form almost had Stiles cowering under the look. Suddenly he heard his father’s voice in his head telling him to be strong.

Stiles spine straightened and he took a step forward. He didn’t have any weapons on him since the hospital had turned them over to the police but that didn’t stop him from feeling as if he wanted to tear Derek to pieces with his bare hands.

“You son of a bitch.” The words left his throat without a second thought.

Derek shifted into his beta form right before his eyes. The feral look stayed though. “You killed Pack.” His voice sounded furious, but under that fury was anguish. Stiles lips pulled back in a deranged grin.

“Damn right I did. They killed my father.” His grin faltered as a wave of pain washed over him again. He quickly stomped down on it though.

“Your father?” Derek looked at Stiles as if he doubted the truth of his words.

“Yes. They killed him. They got what they deserved. I only wish I could have made them suffer more before I killed them.” The words that left Stiles mouth felt like poison but he couldn’t take them back (he didn’t even want to).

Derek watched him for a moment before he transformed back into his human form. The red slowly bled out until all Stiles could see in the light of the street lamps was pupils shaded by the darkness.

“I didn’t know. It’s a shame though. I had plans for your father. Isaac acted against my wishes. He was stupid. Still, he was Pack. Someone will have to pay for his death.” Derek circled behind him and Stiles moved with him. “I’ll even be gracious enough to let you choose which of your friends should suffer for it.”

Stiles started laughing. It started slowly but it soon grew into a manic hysteria. It got so bad that he had to hold his side from the muscle cramps. Derek simply stared at him.

Stiles straightened eventually. “You won’t be touching any more of my friends.”

“Oh. And why is that?” Derek stepped closer and grabbed his chin. Stiles simply smiled back at him.

“Because I know your weakness.” For a moment Derek simply looked confused and Stiles reveled in his complete lack of knowledge about his own Pack.

“Danny told me about Mates.”

“Danny?” Now he looked truly lost.

“Yeah Danny. Isaac’s mate. Oh wait, that’s right, you didn’t know that.” Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand but Derek still wouldn’t release him. “That’s how I killed them.”

Derek’s hand tightened painfully and Stiles cringed a little as he felt the bones creak. “What.” His voice was flat but Stiles could practically feel his anger inside his head.

“I stabbed him. Danny that is. Right in the stomach. It was easy. Danny died and Isaac followed him. I didn’t even have to touch him.” Stiles started laughing again until his breath hitched when the horror of it all caught up with him. He was truly a monster now.

“What does this have to do with stopping me from killing your friends?” Derek tried to sound tough but Stiles could hear the strain in his voice.

Stiles leaned closer. “Because I know I’m your Mate.”

Derek froze. From up close Stiles could see his pupils constrict sharply and then expand to fill most of his eye. Derek inhaled deeply before he let go of Stiles’ chin. He paced away from him before he stopped in front of the clinic. “So what’s your big play then Stiles? You’ll simply kill yourself if I don’t do what you say?” When he turned around again he was smiling.

Stiles stomach clenched wearily but he held his ground. “Yeah, exactly. I die, you die.”

Derek paused for a minute before he chuckled. “Oh Stiles, you should really do your research before you decide to issue ultimatums.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Stiles watched as Derek circled back around him again.

“It means that you’ve just shown your hand. And believe me when I say that it wasn’t a winning one.” Stiles took a sharp step backward as Derek appeared in front of him.

Unfortunately he had nowhere to go. He tried to run but Derek’s arm shot out like whipcord and tightened sharply around the bruises that Scott had left earlier. Stiles breath hissed out in pain.

Before he knew what was happening Derek had spun him around again and gripped the back of his hair. He pulled sharply and Stiles had no choice but to arch with the pull. “Don’t…” Stiles didn’t get to finish his sentence before Derek was invading his mouth.

For a split second Stiles thought that he had truly lost his mind. He could feel Derek’s tongue invading his mouth as he struggled to detach himself from the situation. Derek was everywhere though. When Stiles tried to pull away Derek simply used the grip on his hair to pull him closer. When he tried to push him away he simply locked his other arm around Stiles’ waist. Soon Stiles was running out of breath. Derek’s kiss was all-consuming. Slowly but surely gray dots started dancing in front of his eyes from the lack of oxygen. Derek didn’t stop though.

Just as Stiles began to lose consciousness Derek pulled back sharply and released him. Stiles fell backwards limply and waited for the painful feel of the asphalt to greet him. He thought that he could hear Derek swearing but the sound was muffled and Stiles head was swimming. He could taste blood in his mouth from a cut on his lip. There were warm bands wrapped around his chest and a bright light and suddenly Stiles didn’t really care what was happening because the gray was becoming black and the world was falling away.

The last thing he remembered hearing was the sound of a pained howl drifting away from him.

Stiles wasn’t sure if it was pain or relief that he felt at the sound. He found that he couldn't really bring himself to care as he surrendered to unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. I feel like I'm always ending my chapters with Stiles unconscious. Oh well, next chapter will answer some of those burning questions if you guys want to stick around. It will get good eventually, I promise. ;)


	5. Take a Deep Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From bad to worse

“What the hell were you thinking Stiles?” Lydia was pacing back and forth across the clinic floor while Stiles tried to regain his equilibrium. 

“I screwed up.” 

She laughed rudely and stopped long enough to smack him in the back of the head before she turned to Deaton. 

“What do we do now?” 

Deaton studied them both closely before he replied. “The only thing we can do. We perform the ritual before Derek gets the opportunity. If we’re lucky it will take him at least a day to gather a strong enough coven.”

“Wait a second. What the hell is going on?” Stiles rubbed his forehead and tried to will away the massive headache that was blossoming behind his eyelids. 

“You fucked up Stiles. We are trying to fix it. What more do you want to know?” Lydia glared at him and Stiles gently swallowed down the words he was about to say. Lydia nodded and gestured to Deaton to continue.

“I will make a few calls and see if I can get the ingredients necessary to make this work. It won’t be easy but I will do my best. In the meantime, you both need to stay out of sight?”

“What about Scott? Has anyone heard from him?” 

Lydia and Deaton exchanged a look and Stiles heart started racing. “He hasn’t shown up yet and he hasn’t called.” 

“But you think he’s okay, right?” Deaton sighed and crossed the room until he was standing directly in front of him. 

“Right now we can’t worry about Scott. Right now, we have to worry about you. If Derek gets his hands on that coven then he will use them to cast a series of spells which will prevent you from ever breaking your bond with him.”

Stiles rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled loudly. “I still don’t understand. The whole point of the bond is that if I die, he dies, right? If I get hurt, he gets hurt. So why don’t you just kill me so we can end this whole thing.” 

Lydia’s lips pursed angrily and she looked ready to slap him again. Deaton just looked sad. 

“We can fix this Stiles. If we can get our hands on these ingredients then Lydia and I can cast our own spell. No one will have to die. We can sever the bond and you can go your separate ways. You can have your life back.”

Stiles stared at him for a second as the possibilities opened up in front of him. A life without Derek’s influence, without the threat of death hovering over everyone he loved. 

Then he remembered what he had already lost and the future lost its luster. He saw his Father’s body lying in the bathtub, heard the howls of Derek’s Pack and saw the threat of the moon hanging menacingly in the night sky. Nothing would ever be the same. He would never be the same.

“What kind of life do you think I’ll have? That Derek will just stop. And what if he does? Do you think I can just let it go? Walk away from everything that’s happened?” Stiles voice rose as he carried on. His blood boiled with the thought of Derek getting away with the things he had done. 

Lydia came forward and braced her hands on his shoulders. “Please Stiles. Just let us help.” 

Stiles was breathing heavy with his rage but one look at Lydia and he deflated immediately. She looked scared. Stiles was tired of everyone around him being afraid. 

He nodded slowly and put his hand on hers. “Alright, let’s do it.” She smiled shakily and turned around to discreetly wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.

When she turned around again she looked determined. “Alright, go collect whatever you think we’ll need and I’ll try and prepare the circle while you’re gone. Stiles, you can help me draw the larger sigils and I’ll focus on the details.” 

Deaton smiled at her and went to grab his bag. “Lydia, may I speak with you alone before I go?” Lydia nodded and followed him out of the room. 

When she returned she looked a little paler than when she left but no less determined. 

“Well, are you just going to sit there or are you going to help?” She went to one of the cabinets in the corner and started pulling out pieces of chalk. Stiles took the chalk and went to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room while he waited to receive his orders. 

Lydia smiled but it looked like it had been painted on and the colors were running. 

“Okay, let’s do this.” She stepped forward and gestured to the floor. Stiles bent obediently and never even winced as his knees found the concrete. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

HOURS LATER

Stiles surveyed the sigils with a bored eye. It looked like a circle filled with squiggles and lines to him but Lydia insisted that it held more magical potential than anything she had ever completed before. Stiles just nodded and tried not to think of everything that would inevitably go wrong. 

Lydia had just set down the last candle when he felt it. At first, he just shook it off as a muscle he must have pulled when he had fallen earlier. However, after a few minutes the discomfort increased and began to spread.

“Lydia.” 

Lydia finished lighting the candle and looked at him over her shoulder. “What?” She took one look at his face and stood abruptly. “Oh no. Not now. Not yet.” 

Stiles frowned at her before a sudden wave of nausea overtook him and he doubled over. “What’s happening to me?” His stomach felt like it was caught in a vice and his veins felt like they were filled with molten lead. 

“Derek. He must have had a coven already.” Lydia grabbed her phone off the gurney and dialed Deaton’s number as quickly as she could. 

Stiles curled into a fetal position on the floor and gasped as the inside of his mouth filled with the taste of ash. 

Lydia leaned down next to him and placed her hand on his forehead. He recoiled as soon as her flesh met his though because it made his whole body seize with pain. 

“I don’t know what to do! How can I help him?” She paused for a moment to listen. “What good is that?!” She sounded angry now. “How can you say that?!” Stiles writhed as the feeling of cold replaced the heat of fire. His whole body was numb now and his eyesight was fading fast. “Just tell me what to do, anything, I’ll do it.” Stiles couldn’t see her tears but he could feel them as they splashed off his arms. They felt like ice hitting snow. 

Before his vision faded entirely he heard one last sob. 

“I can’t do it. I can’t kill him.” He felt her hair caress his face before she kissed his forehead. “I’m so sorry Stiles.” 

Stiles’ own tear fell before the cold crested and overtook him.


	6. Hold Your Heart in Your Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you can't see but you can feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay. Life happened.

Stiles tasted pennies. And not just one or two. No, it tasted like he had tried to swallow a whole handful and they were catching in his throat trying to choke him.

He tried to roll onto his side to alleviate the feeling but instead it just made him feel like his whole body was being swallowed into a hole in the floor and he had to stop before he retched.

When he finally got a little bit of his equilibrium back he tried to heft himself upright. His hand slipped away from him across the floor as the sweat that had accumulated met the cement.

“Stiles? Can you hear me?”

Stiles looked in the direction that the voice was coming from and had to shield his eyes against the overhead lighting. Everything was too bright. Too cold. Too _sharp_.

It was like his brain was overloading and he was processing everything at once and yet nothing was coming through clearly or in the same configuration.

“Stiles?” A different voice this time. It didn’t sound any less concerned than the first one.

He tried to stand again but he couldn’t seem to support his weight at all so he slid himself over toward the wall behind him.

Even when he closed his eyes it felt like the world was shifting away from him. He turned his head sideways as soon as his back hit the wall and had a moment to wonder what his life had become before he vomited across the side of his hand.

“I’ll get a towel.” The sound of footsteps--too loud and oddly echoing-- receded and simultaneously grew closer.

“Stiles? Can you hear me?” He felt a weight on his shoulder and pulled away so quickly he almost slipped sideways in his own sick.

“Don’t.” The sound that came out of his throat wasn’t familiar to him.

“Good. So you can speak.”

Stiles groaned in response.

“Here.”

A shift in the air and Stiles felt something land in the space beside his right thigh. Stiles didn’t dare to try and reach for it though in case he added to the problem.

Someone--he assumed it was Lydia since she was the only one he knew who could fit that much worry and exacerbation into one breath--heaved a sigh and started pacing across the room. The _clip_ _clip_ _clip_ of her shoes was like a railroad spike through his brain.

“What do we do now?”

Stiles felt the towel shift beside him and the smell of vomit intensified for a moment before it faded away.

“Alright Stiles. Hang on; you’re probably not going to like this.” Stiles felt his eyebrows settle into a frown before he was suddenly lifted from the floor and quickly shifted onto a nearby gurney. His stomach rolled again but he managed to keep everything down this time (if there was even anything left to come up).

Stiles’ head lolled uncomfortably back and forth against the gurney’s cold, hard surface.

He felt like he was on fire again. His skin felt like it was flaking off piece by piece and all that was being left behind was an empty husk. He groaned again and tried to focus his attention on the sound of angry voices instead of his own internal combustion.

They were talking about witches brews. No, not brews, bonds. And it wasn’t witches bonds it was witches _and_ bonds. Stiles brain was slowly starting to catch up. To grab onto the little pieces that had floated away and gather them back into himself.

A little bit of the fire inside of him died down enough for him to roll over. Unfortunately he rolled a little too far and started to slip off the side. Strong hands caught him easily and held him upright. He grasped on tightly to both arms and held on. After a few minutes he felt stable enough to let go. He still didn’t trust himself enough to open his eyes but even sitting upright seemed like a huge accomplishment at that moment.

“If we can’t do that then what can we do?”

“First we should worry about finding him safe passage then we will worry about everything else.”

“There is no safe passage! It took all we had just to make it here!”

Stiles lifted his hands to his ears as the voice rose like a tidal wave around him. Not a moment later he felt soft hands guiding them back down again to settle in his lap.

“I’m sorry Stiles. I’ll try not to yell anymore.”

The weight on his hands was feather light and cold like ice. He tried not to flinch away from it.

“How do we break this? There has to be a plan B right? There’s always a plan B.”

Stiles heard Deaton heave a defeated sigh. “I’m sorry. There is nothing else that I can do right now. I’ve exhausted all avenues Lydia. The bond is set. All that we can do now is try to get them as far away from each other as possible and hope that it weakens it. That it weakens _him_.”

Lydia’s hand brushed across Stiles’ sweaty forehead and he heard her stifle a sob before she moved away again.

His hands filled with fire in the wake of her ice.

“So what if we…” Lydia’s voice trailed off suddenly. Stiles could hear feet making their way toward the front of the Clinic before they came rushing back with far more urgency.

“Lydia! You and Stiles head out the back, I’ll keep them occupied out front!”

Stiles could feel the air move around him as Deaton rushed around collecting items to fight with. On his second pass Stiles held his arm out in time to catch the hem of his shirt.

“Stop.”

Deaton paused only to remove Stiles' hand before he tried to move away again. “It’ll be alright Stiles I just…”

“No.”

“Stiles.”

“NO.” Stiles stood shakily. He reached for Deaton’s shirt again while his legs wavered before he locked his knees and used his free hand to grip the edge of the gurney. “This isn’t your fight. This was never your fight and I won’t let you die for me.”

“Oh ye of little faith.” Stiles could practically feel Deaton’s wry smile brushing across his senses.

Stiles grasped his shirt tighter. “Any faith I had died with my Dad.”

Deaton was quiet for a moment. “What would you have me do Stiles? Abandon you to the wolves?”

Stiles paused in consideration and through the haze of pain and fire he found his conviction.

“Yes. That is exactly what I want you to do.”


End file.
